


The space between

by nylie



Category: Free!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pre-Free! Dive to the Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 15:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nylie/pseuds/nylie
Summary: Phone calls weren’t a thing before Natsuya left for the United States.





	The space between

**Author's Note:**

> all you need to know is that I started yelling at meg about natsunao's phonecalls for some random reason, and then this happened :)  
> which, btw, thanks to meg for beta-ing this <3 &  
>   
>   
> 

Phone calls weren’t a thing before.

Back when they breathed the same space, from the gates to their classroom to the club to the gates. Sometimes, after; walking home, past the combini, up the stairs, into Natsuya’s room. Nao had never been further away than the length of Natsuya’s arm, a turn of the head, his name stolen from Natsuya’s lips.

(Nao. Nao. Nao.)

When they had said their goodbyes the night before Natsuya’s departure, Nao had wondered ( _had asked, had feared_ ) “will you be alright?” and Natsuya had promised with a reassuring smile that he’d yell for Nao if he ever needed him, half a joke Nao had blinked up to with a hint of amusement on his lips and that warm look in his eyes that told him he thought Natsuya was being ridiculous.

Natsuya had kept his promise. On his second night in the States, when his body was still running Japanese time and midnight came and left, Natsuya had run up the fire stairs and he had yelled Nao’s name from the top of the building.

(Nao. Nao. Nao.)

He hadn’t needed Nao then, not like a burning fire, not like a missing limb, but he had screamed─Nao’s name burning his throat, thrumming through his skin─hoping the eastern wind would be strong enough to take Natsuya’s voice back home to him.

That was the first time Natsuya called. Minutes, hours later, eyes bright upon the sky, feet dangling in the air, phone pressed tight between his shoulder and his ear.

“Are you in trouble?” Nao had said as greeting, voice soft on the first ring. Natsuya wondered then, for the space of a second, if Nao had been waiting for him, if he had heard him yell his name in his sleep. Natsuya wanted to ask.

“I appreciate your trust,” he had breathed instead, heavy, closing his eyes, relaxing his hands. Nao laughed, a contained sound that the wind brought over full of warmth and brushed Natsuya’s hair off his face.

“Go to sleep, Natsuya, you barely got there seconds ago…” Nao’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, that same soft tone that also said Natsuya was being ridiculous. Natsuya had wanted to ask ( _Did you hear me, Nao? Did you hear me yell your name? Were you waiting for me because you knew I’d call?_ ), but he had kept quiet.

“I will,” he had said, and, feeling the burn of Nao’s name in his lungs, he had added: “good morning, Nao.”

“Good night, Natsuya.”

Phone calls weren’t a thing before then. After the first, they had poured in. Early mornings. Late nights. Occasionally, outside of time.

They’d talk about everything and nothing at all.

“There’s a building outside my window,” he had told Nao when he asked if he liked his new place.

“There’s a bird outside of mine” Nao had replied, days later, and Natsuya had imagined the way he would lean towards the bird, the same way Natsuya leaned towards the window in his room trying to find it. “I have a test tomorrow”

“Bet you know everything already.” Natsuya had mocked.

“Bet you didn’t study at all for yours.” Nao had fired in return.

They had talked about things he doesn’t remember now, words he can’t form in his memories. Natsuya had asked things just to hear the amusement in Nao’s breath, familiar, comforting, close to his heart, making him feel back home.  

“You are ridiculous,” Nao had felt the need to voice once, as if Natsuya couldn’t tell he was thinking it through the hum of the ocean keeping them apart. Natsuya had laughed, stretching his legs as far as his sheets would let him, letting the morning sun draw figures on his face, a yawn trapped between his teeth.

“I miss you too,” Natsuya had replied once, loud enough for Nao to hear him even without a phone breaching the length of the entire Pacific Ocean. Nao’s breath hitched and Natsuya had felt too much too warm, had gotten up, words coming out of his lips without sense, “but I don’t… not like, I mi─I do, but I don’t─I don’t know what I’m saying…”

(Do you?)

The thing about distance, Natsuya thinks now, _he thought then_ , is that he can still feel Nao with him, as if they are still walking side by side to school, as if he can still see the curve of Nao’s smile as Natsuya skips backwards going home feeling the spring air drop blossoms on his head. Natsuya doesn’t _miss him_ , because you can’t miss something you still have. But he does, _miss him_ , and _have him_ , and Natsuya tries not to think too much about that.

“I like your voice,” Nao told him as goodnight an undefined time later, like a long thought answer that left Natsuya gaping at the ceiling, Nao’s voice making him shiver long after the call had gone cold.

(Me too. Me too. Me too.)

When he wakes up today, he picks up the phone, taps for a video call, and places it on the counter. His hair is a mess that worsens by the hand he puts through it and his head is breaking through a headache last night’s celebratory beer left behind. He stills a yawn behind his fingers as he lifts himself on his toes to reach the instant coffee in the cupboard. When he turns around, Nao is already there, silently watching him, soft through the blurriness.

“Good morning.” Natsuya smiles as he grabs his cup and gets on with his breakfast ( _caf_ _é_ says the label on the package, it’s almost finished now and definitely better than the ones he finds in the States). It’s a bit early for him to be awake, but Nao is already curled up in bed, hair spreading over the pillow framing the sleep in his eyes, and his cheek is firmed placed on the linen, a shape Natsuya wants to trace with his hands.

“Good morning, Natsuya,” he says, softly, almost whispering into the air. There’s a glint of something in his eyes Natsuya doesn’t know what to do with. Sometimes, he wants to go back so bad. “Are you ready for today? Do you have any plans?”

“Just touring through the city before I leave,” he shrugs off, sitting himself by the counter of the small apartment he rented for the whole week he spent here in Mexico. “I’ve got to spend that prize I got yesterday. I think there’s a market close by, I might find something for you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Natsuya stirs the sugar in his cup, takes a sip, letting the coffee burn his tongue. On top of the dining table, outside of Nao’s field of view, there’s a _sombrero_ Natsuya bought on his first day. It has the colours of a macaw, _Viva México_ written in big white letters. Natsuya hadn’t resisted the urge to send Nao a photo with it as soon as he saw it.

“ _It’s a good look on you_ ,” Nao had replied, words full of mirth, and Natsuya had bought it for him on a whim. He hopes Nao will like it.

“Did you find a new apartment?” he asks, turning towards Nao. His eyes are still open, they have never left Natsuya, not for even one second, he doesn’t doubt.

Nao clicks his tongue, shakes his head slowly, sinks deeper into his pillow.

“Not yet.” Nao stirs a yawn, shakes the sleepiness out of his eyes. He still has his glasses on, but they are askew on his nose. Natsuya wants to take them off for him. “I’m visiting two new places this Saturday.”

“Make sure they look out onto the bay.”

Nao laughs quietly, he moves around in bed, taking the phone with him. The image is blurry and undefined but Natsuya doesn't take his eyes off him either.

“I’m a university student with a barely paying part-time job, Natsuya.” Nao takes off his glasses, blinking uncomfortably at the screen. “And as such, I should probably go to sleep. You should go buy me something then, too.”

Something tightens inside Natsuya’s chest. _Sometimes, I think of going back_ , he wants to say. He’s been thinking about it, moving closer, like baby steps, maybe Australia, maybe. ( _What do you say?_ ) The words stick to his tongue, making his mouth feel heavy, as if he’s still under the water of the pool he competed in yesterday, struggling for air with each stroke. But unlike yesterday, there are lead weights on his legs, drowning him in his thoughts.

_Sometimes, I think of going back_ , he wants to say. “See you later, Nao,” he says instead.

Distance, Natsuya thought then, _he thinks now_ , is a funny thing. It stretches. Like the ocean, waves up and down, breaks like the well of their phone calls, drop by drop, filling the space between.

 


End file.
